Kaleidoscope
by riane
Summary: Sark, Syd, and a major dose of unrequited lust. Or is it..?
1. Unreal Fantasy

Title: Kaleidoscope

Author: riane

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I wish I owned anything remotely connected to Alias! (Preferably Sark hehehe)

Author's Notes: Read and review, since I find all your feedback hugely helpful :) Hope nobody jumps on me for not being grammatically-sane…I figured writing this way captures the way Sydney feels a lot more accurately. Let me know what you think! 

Spoilers: Set after Counteragent.

****** 

It never did make any sense. 

My life.

A kaleidoscope of colours too bright too sharp too intense to fit nicely behind my eyes. Everybody else's colours were muted and gentle and didn't cut into your flesh when things went wrong.

To everybody else, things going wrong would be getting caught in the rain in the middle of a family beach vacation. Forgetting where your car keys are before an important meeting. Finding out that you're getting a pay cut - which is better than being retrenched.

For me, things going wrong means going home to find your fiancé dead in a bathtub. Realising that your mother is a former KGB operative. 

Risking your neck for the man you love, only to have him slap you in the face. 

Metaphorically of course. 

I sigh. Slide my finger around the rim of my coffee mug. Thinking hurts too much sometimes. 

So does living.

_Livingbreathingbeingseeingfeeling__…_

Not surprisingly, thoughts of a certain blonde creep into my consciousness. Morbid thoughts and Sark seem to go hand in hand. Like popcorn and movies. Sugar and cavities. 

Sark and -

Stop. Stopstopstop. I stand up and massage my temples. Secretly relieved that Will isn't around. Where is he anyway? Francie's probably at the restaurant even at this insane hour, knowing her -

Oh who am I kidding? 

I sink back down into the sofa and cover my face with a cushion. Shame. Shame on you Sydney Bristow. Agent Extraordinaire. For even thinking of him in THAT way. He's most likely an enemy of your country, has all sorts of plans for world domination/subjugation/annihilation - he was your mother's right hand man for crying out loud!

Hmph. Good Sydney. Thinking dark thoughts does wonders for stifling any kind of non-professional thoughts about insanely attractive colleagues.

I sigh again but it's a trying-to-keep-from-grinning sigh. Yes, I wasn't exactly warming towards him during that geisha episode but I suppose one's judgement does get clouded when it comes to life and death situations (antidotes, running out of time etc etc). 

But he was most definitely warming towards me.

* 

For once, I go into Credit Dauphine not feeling utterly depressed. 

I sit on my chair and carefully glance over at Sark's desk, several stations away. He's there, right on time as always. Under normal circumstances I'd avoid him at all costs - eye contact included (oh with the exception of Scalding Glares of course) - but after discovering how cathartic Sark-fantasies can be…I can't help but wonder what the real thing would be like…aha eye contact established -

I give him what I hope is one of my most winning smiles.

And am instantly deflated by his cursory nod. 

How dare he! I crush the nearest unfortunate piece of paper. After all of last night thinking about him, and and -

Sigh.

How embarrassing. Scratch that escapism route. He sure won't even flirt back, let alone kiss my troubles away. The tragic non-existent love life of Sydney Bristow. From Vaughn angst to unrequited Sark lust. Better not to think. I slide effortlessly into Mindless Automaton Office Mode and start filing paperwork. 

All is well until he brushes past me, reaches out and lightly trails his finger across my cheek.

I congratulate myself for not falling over.

*


	2. Cat Chow

Twenty files, one meeting, and three strong coffees later: I close my eyes and exhale. 

What. Am. I . Doing. 

Sitting across from Sark at the conference table has never, ever, _ever been that electrifying. I know that I've given him ample icy stares, but that was when I was concerned about him giving me away to Sloane._

That, I'm afraid, is the least of my worries.

I shudder at the memory of his languid smile. No woman in her right mind could possibly find him unattractive, but how many would take on a known assassin? 

I need more coffee.

Getting up, I head for the coffee dispenser on the other side of the room. One foot in front of the other. My hands are shaking and I think I'm going to spill some onto my blouse.

'Careful…' 

I don't know what unnerves me more; the husky tone of his voice, or the feel of his hand around mine. 'You almost sloshed that revolting brew all over yourself.' 

I laugh nervously. His lips slowly curl into a smile. I suddenly feel like a bird seconds away from being cat chow.

'I should go now,' I mumble, moving backwards, wondering why he isn't letting go.

He leans his face closer and I feel his warm breath on my ear. 'Are you afraid of me, Sydney?'

My back stiffens. He slides his fingers away from mine.

'Of course not,' I lie, a second too late. He shrugs nonchalantly and walks away. 

I stalk off in the opposite direction, blinking back inexplicable tears.

*

'Ice-cream is good.' 

I hiccup, down another spoonful, and Will laughs. 'Rough day at work?'

I nod, and suddenly I'm crying.

'Syd? Syd I'm so sorry-'

I sob into his right shirt pocket and leave a teary, chocolate stain. 

'I know that it isn't exactly a normal job,' he starts, gently rubbing my back, 'but can't you take a few days off?'

Sniffle-shudder-sniffle-shudder.

'Maybe. But Sloane might get suspicious.'

He sighs. 'You know Sydney, even superheroes like you need to take a break.' 

I totally agree.

'Tired,' I mumble, soothed by his steady heart beat. Good ol' dependable Will. I can definitely count on you. You're not like Vaughn with his Alice-in-the-box. Or like Sark, with his blasted conceit that just happens to make him all the more sensual. 

He gets me my blanket and carefully drapes it over me. 'Go. Sleep. No more ice cream.'

*

I make it a point to not look at him for the entire day. Yep, nine to five. No Surreptitious Sark Stares for a full eight hours.

It hurts too much.

Then Sloane calls me in his office and tells me in that creepy paternal tone of his that he hopes that Sark will behave himself on the mission since it only is the two of us and that if he does step out of line I have to tell Sloane straight away -

WHAT.

Wonderful.

'Is something wrong, Sydney?'

I smile brightly. 'No. No of course not. I'll let you know if anything bothers me. Thank you for your concern.'

I think I'm going to be sick.

*


	3. Impossible

Mission debrief start.

Sly Sloane. Smug Sark. Suspicious Sydney.

Destination? London. Aim? Retrieve documents detailing the location of a Rembaldi artefact from Harold Bruckheimer, a trusted contact of Sark's. 

So far so good.

Our cover - a pair of lovers canoodling on a bench. 

Mission debrief end.

I'm swearing under my breath. 

*

'So what's my countermission?'

Vaughn clears his throat. The wrinkles on his forehead look even deeper than usual.

Is that even possible?

'It's riskier this time round. Sark probably trusts you as much as you trust him - yeah that's right, not very much!' We both manage a small, strained laugh. 'So there isn't much you can do for this mission. If we give a false location to SD-6, Sloane will question Sark's loyalties, and Sark is more likely to suspect you rather than his contact. What you can do is make a duplicate of the documents you receive, so the CIA can get a lead on where the Rembaldi artefact is.' He hands me this tiny silver camera. And I make sure our hands don't 'accidentally' touch. 

'Is that all?' He slowly nods. I turn to leave the basement but he catches my elbow. I have this insane hope that he'll confess his undying love for me.

'Is something wrong Sydney?' 

I sigh and shake my head. Of COURSE there's something wrong. I happen to be infatuated with you and despite the fact that I thought I killed Sloane in exchange for the antidote that saved your life _and at the same time got flirted at by Incredibly Sexy in Leather Sark - you've been seeing Alice all along?!_

'Can I go now, Vaughn? I have a flight to catch,' I say quietly, the sound of my voice surprisingly weary.

'Yeah, sure.' He looks at me with a mixture of concern, confusion, and that familiar sadness lurking behind his eyes. I feel almost sorry for him.

Almost.

*

'It's a beautiful night isn't it darling?' 

I do a good job of stiffening as his arm curls around my waist. 

'Yeah,' I mumble noncommittally, trying so hard not to concentrate on the way his fingers are lightly caressing my side. 

'Sydney,' he says, in the same sensual whisper, 'if you don't start acting like you're besotted with me, you'll blow our cover and we'll both be killed.'

Yelp.

'I knew that,' I croon back, gazing adoringly into his eyes, running my hand up his chest. 

Aah. Muscled. Nice.

He smirks. I blush. Am I that transparent?

'No need to be so shy,' he chuckles softly, trailing his finger along my collarbone. 'We are lovers after all.'

'We're pretending Sark,' I whisper furiously. I really am furious. Really.

'Are we?'

He brings his face dangerously close to mine. Ohdearohdear. His eyes are blue. So blue. His lips are like thisclose to mine andand should I should I ohohoh -

Ah heck. My hand slides up to the back of his head and pulls -

'Excuse me…'

I gasp. He doesn't. Naturally. He turns around and stands up as if it's the most ordinary thing in the world to have our Forbidden First Kiss interrupted by another bad guy in a trenchcoat. Sark shakes his hand and gets the folder, exchanges a few words, and he's done. 

I sit there fuming, realising I was going to _kiss that horrible awful damnably attractive monster -_

'Let's go shall we?' he chirrups, offering his hand.

'I can stand perfectly well by myself, thank you,' I snap, demonstrating how great I am at doing just that. I'm mad at him. So blazingly mad. I'm mad at me too. I'm so mad that I know there's absolutely no way I can carry through with the countermission on the flight back without making it obvious and -

'Is something wrong, Sydney?' 

'No!'

He tilts his head to the side and the smallest of smiles tugs at his lips. His perfect lips. His crooked lips. His oh-so-kissable lips.

'You're upset,' he chuckles, 'about the…interruption.' 

'I - am - not!' Well that's only half a lie since the other half has to do with my total inability to think straight and hence jeopardise the success of my countermission. Right? Right. 

I stalk off into the passenger seat of his rented Merc (I can't believe he insisted on renting a Merc for driving to and from the airport) and slam the door shut, pointedly looking away from him.

The rest of the drive is uneventful. He leaves the radio off. 

We board the plane in silence. Until he whispers, 'I'm not too happy about the interruption myself. We should pick up where we left off one day. Preferably sooner than later.' 

He must have known that saying that while placing his hand on the small of my back would send me stumbling into the window seat. 

*


	4. UnSleep

Breathe. InOut. In. Out.

Count on Sark for dropping elephant-sized hints and then - two seconds later - act as though I don't even exist. He's busy typing away on his laptop and I simmer away. Fine. Fine. I can deal with this. I whip out my laptop and pointedly start typing too. Yes, I'm fully aware that I'm acting like a brat, but I suppose he has that effect on me.

Type type type. Go ahead and write up plans for world domination Pretty Boy, I'm working on my English paper! 

'Sydney,' he says after a while, looking at me with those eyes of his, 'you really don't have to type so furiously.'

'Why?' I counter, 'Are you so easily distracted?'

He smiles. Slowly. Meaningfully. Maddeningly. 'What?' I snap, totally unable to help myself. He chuckles and goes back to his typing. I give up and decide that hating him is so much easier.

He gives a quiet sigh and puts his laptop away. Hmph. All that scheming must get tiring. Hey, wait a minute - he's actually closing his eyes…

Mr Sark is taking a _nap? _

I wait for an agonisingly long twenty minutes.This is the perfect time to make that damn duplicate. I should reach down, quietly retrieve the directions, then whip out my snazzy CIA-issued camera and snap away. 

And risk being busted and consquently strangled (not shot, we're on a plane here). Hm. Is he really asleep? I'm surprised he takes naps. Isn't that dangerous for a man like him? Why is he even sleepy? It's not like we did much during the mission. Other than flirt like crazy and almost kiss but I mean that's not exactly my idea of physical extertion but mentally yeah it was a battle and -

Stop. Thinking. 

I carefully peer at his still form. Okay. Not moving much, that's a good sign. His head is tilted slightly to the left, and I can't help but notice the wispy blonde curls that peek out from under his collar. Or the way his lips are slightly parted. Or the steady rhythm of his rising and falling chest.

I gulp. Yeah. He's asleep. And I'm obsessed.

My fingers are trembling. The document slides easily out of the folder. Amazing, isn't it, how we go to such lengths to get two sheets of paper. One silent snap. Two silent snaps. Make it three, just in case. Hurryhurry put the documents back and that camera away and -

'Sydney….'

I freeze.

Oh crap.

*


	5. Crossroads

Author's Note: Thank you SO MUCH for all your kind reviews! *happy sigh* Nothing better than coming home after a tiring day at uni and finding out that Alias fans are actually enjoying this story!

****

They say that right before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. I beg to differ. My last thoughts were more along the lines of 'Sark', 'kiss', and 'whyyy'. 

'Do you have a headache?'

I slowly open one eye and see him looking at me strangely.

EXHALE!

'A little,' I say a tad too enthusiastically, pressing on my temples. Oh pleaseplease please let him not realise what I was doing before he woke up, said my name, and saw me jamming my eyes shut and grimacing. Why did he say my name when he woke up anyway? What if he _did_ see me take the photos and is simply putting up an act because he enjoys playing with my already tortured mind? Oh man. I think I really do have a headache. 

'Here,' he says, offering me two tablets and a glass of water (where'd he get those from??), 'this should help.' 

My stomach does a loop-the-loop. He…actually looks concerned. 

'Thanks,' I mumble, horrified that I'm blushing. I carefully pick up the tablets, trying ohsohard not to notice how warm his skin is and how utterly perfect his hand is - palm fingers nails everything. Everything. Perfect. I'll just ignore the fact that those same hands have fired guns/strangled necks/slit throats etc. 

I swallow quickly, trying to wash these disturbing thoughts down with the painkillers. 

He's watching me, smiling. I am melting. Hear that? Melting. 

'What are you looking at?' I say weakly. That was meant to sound authoritative, by the way. Not happening.

'You,' he replies simply, before returning to his Suspicious So-Called Sleep. 

I sigh.

*

'Good job, Sydney. The duplicates are being analysed as we speak.'

I nod absently. 

'Did the mission go well?' he asks. I nod again.

I vaguely register his furrowed eyebrows. 'Nothing…out of the ordinary happened?'

I blink. Define 'ordinary' sweetheart. Besides, as IF I'll tell him anyway! 'No,' I say slowly, 'why are you asking?'

He gives me the mournful-sad-eyes-wrinkled-forehead look. 'You seem…distracted.' I shrug.

'I did what you told me to do. That's all there is to it.'

He hesitates before saying softly, 'We need to talk.'

Oh oh.

'About Alice -'

 I cut him off, raising my hand and looking at him warningly.

'Sydney, please -'

'Vaughn, we've already covered this. You don't owe me an explanation. Your personal life is your business. You're allowed to date, you know. I'm not stopping you.' I rush on, knowing that I'm really explaining things to myself, 'I'm…I'm okay with that. Totally. I don't want to hold you back. You've helped me through so much, and I'm grateful, but we don't owe each other anything. Just - be happy Vaughn.'

Wow. I actually did it. He looks at me with what can only be tired resignation. 'Yeah. You too, Syd.'

I say goodbye and know that now, there's no turning back. 

*


	6. Awakening

Author's Notes:  Sorry for the short chapter! I figured this is the best way to end it. It's _finally_ the weekend, and since I've only had a week of uni, I'm not flooded with homework for a change…so I promise to work on this overtime hehe keep the reviews coming! They keep me writing :) (no, that wasn't a veiled threat haha)

*****

I reach the office bright and early. Hardly anyone else is around, which is fine by me. Grab a steaming mug of coffee, sit down, look around, notice Sark's arrival - ooh. Heart rate just shot up for a second there. It's probably fairly obvious that I'm staring at him but hey, at least I remember to sip a bit of coffee now and then. 

Sigh. How can one man in a tailored suit look so utterly gorgeous? Even his shoes look sexy. 

Ahem. Better stop that train of thought before it inevitably gets derailed. Wonder what he's like at home? The Secret Life of Sark. Does he have his slob moments too? Haha. Somehow, I doubt it. Slob and Sark don't belong in the same sentence. 

I resist the urge to swoon as I watch him file through his paperwork. There's this slight crease between his eyebrows and he purses his lips while sorting through a particularly tedious pile. How he transforms the most boring part of this job into something worth melting over is beyond me. 

Sydney Bristow, get a grip! This is Mr Sark you're drooling over. Bad guy, highly dangerous, mysterious motives. And that accent. Aah. He can even make 'moron' sound exotic. I stifle a giggle. And then sober up.

It can't end happily can it? For all I know, I'm just another way he keeps himself amused. (I shoot him another look. And melt.) Oh well. I'm not going to get sad over this. That growing ache I feel inside has nothing to do with him. I'm okay with his harmless flirting. Even if it amounts to nothing. I mean I could handle Danny dying in a bathtub, killing Noah, kinda dumping Vaughn, working for a man I SO hate, having an emotionally detached father, not knowing whether to trust my own non-dead mother because welll where do I even START - 

Oh dear blinkblink I'm tearing up. I rub discreetly at my eyes, grateful I didn't bother with mascara today because _that_ would really mess things up. Ohboyohboy this is well and truly embarrassing hope nobody saw me. Stand up and keep my head down. Off to the bathroom where I get to bawl in peace -

'Sydney.' 

This can't be happening. 

'Yeah?' I say quietly, not wanting to look at him. Like this. Wonder what he's going to say. Words can't fix this. Words can't fix me.

He squeezes my hand gently, lifts my chin up, and smiles. 

*


	7. Hurt

Author's Note: So sorry for the lack of updates lately…yes, my workload has escalated - and it's only week 2!! Don't worry, I will endeavour to complete this story :) Read and review! I really appreciate it.

*****

Yet another mission debrief. Basically? You've got the directions, now go get the artefact! Sloane sends me and Sark to go fetch - not that I'm complaining. I'm too busy trying not to turn into a puddle of happy goop under his warm gaze. (Sark's that is! Not Sloane's! Ew!) 

Finally we're done. I head for my desk and feel someone grasp my arm. Turning around, I give a little yelp and he has the good grace not to burst out laughing at me.

'Sydney,' he says softly. Aah. I like how he says my name. 'Could I speak to you for a moment?'  

'Sure. Go ahead.'

'In private.'

'Oh!' Ohohoh. 'Yeah. We can head over there.' I suppose beside the potted plant in the corner of the office isn't exactly private-private, but it'll do. He follows me and did I mention that I'm bordering on excited-hysterical?

'Sydney,' he says in that gorgeous voice of his, 'I have to tell you something.'

'Yes?' Yesyesyes?? 

'You're an incredibly intelligent, beautiful and talented young woman,' he says, his blue eyes positively smouldering (did he really say that I can't believe he said that!!) 'And I apologise for leading you on this far.' 

Oh he called me beautiful oh oh I - what. WHAT?

'Leading me on…?' That warm, fuzzy feeling has suddenly metamorphosed into something cold, slimy and gross.

He looks at me strangely, tilting his head to the side, the corner of his mouth lifting up into a smile. 'You do know that there can't possibly be a future for us. Of course, anything purely physical is fine by me.' His smile transforms into something disturbingly seductive. 

This time, I feel only revulsion.

*

Get the Rembaldi artefact blah blah blah. Sure thing, Sloane. I'll just go on another mission with Mr Suave and humiliate myself again. NO problem. I just enjoy getting emotionally pulpitated don't I? Danny, Noah, Vaughn, my parents - and then finding out that the only thing Sark's interested in is getting into my pants. 

Not my heart.

*

'Just get the artefact and place this tracking device on it. We'll get it before it reaches SD-6 storage facilities.' I place the tiny chip-thing in my purse. 

'Syd, are you okay?'

I nod mutely. Not in the mood to lie verbally. 

*

'Sydney.'

'Don't talk to me.' Hey I sound kinda tired. Like something in between depressed and angry. And hurt. Very hurt. So hurt I think I've run out of tears.

'If we're meant to get the artefact out without blowing ourselves up, the least you can do is _focus.' His voice is an angry whisper, the most emotion I've seen. _

'Like you care what happens to me.' Oops. I didn't mean for my voice to choke up like that. His eyes soften.

I hurry out of the van before I start hoping again.

*


	8. Finally

Author's Note: Bwah redheadgrl! Hee! Hope this chapter lives up to everybody's expectations….I write for you Sark/Sarkney fans! :) (I'm a bit nervous about posting this chap…gosh!) ps: what does rnrn mean man?! ****

*****

'Door to your left, Sydney.' 

This stupid facility has too many turns. Finally. 

'Four six eight ten.' I jab the buttons and exhale when the door slides open.

'Keep to your left. Use the crates as your cover.'

I resist the urge to snap, 'I know that!' Blowing my cover over a pointless verbal spat doesn't seem very worthwhile. 

'The artefact is located in the glass case in front of you. Proceed with caution, several men are passing by the room.'

I see it. A large scroll under a glass dome. Whipping my nifty gadgets out, I'm fairly confident this should go well. Slice the glass open, lift out the artefact, stick the CIA-chip on, and I'm done. 

'Take cover, a man's entering the door's access code.' 

I ignore him, thisclose to lifting the artefact out. I'm fast, I can do this come on come on come on -

'Stop being so damned stubborn! Get out of there!'

Done. 

Cold metal presses against the back of my head.

Fear slams into me first, followed by dread when he twists my arm painfully around my back, rasping threats into my ear. Shock sinks in when he turns me roughly around and I see Sark, his gun trained on the now very unfortunate guard. 

'Let her go.'

This is insane. Sark is in no position to make any demands - all the guard has to do is trigger the alarm and we can kiss our molars goodbye. But he does nonetheless, with his cold eyes and grim mouth. 

'Drop the gun,' he says gratingly. 'Or she dies.'

Sark shrugs. 'I'm here for the artefact.' 

In that split-second of confusion, the guard hesitates, and is subsequently rewarded with a bullet between his eyes. 

He barks at me to get moving and I do, blinking back shock and terror and the urge to slap him. We're out of the facility at last and we scramble into the back of the van. The SD-6 assigned driver jams the accelerator. 

'What were you thinking?' I snap. 'If you missed, you would have killed me!' 

'I never miss,' he says coolly, the calm in his voice frustrating me more than my brush with The Permanent Hiatus.

'Don't you ever, ever do that again!' 

'What, save your life? This is the thanks I get? You were the one who didn't listen to me to begin with!' He sounds angry now. Good. GOOD!

'I had a job to do!' Iwon'tcryIwon'tcry. 

'Not at the cost of your own safety.' He looks tired now, as he runs his fingers wearily through his hair. I want to hate him. So bad. But the words tumble out of my mouth like renegade bile before I can force them down. 'Stop pretending that you care. Stop hurting me. Just stop. Please.' His eyes widen. That's almost funny.

I realise now that I'm crying and my arm hurts like hell and I don't think I'm ever going to get over him but then he leans forward and grasps my face and before I can react he's pressing his lips against mine with impossible tenderness. 

I pull him closer with my good arm.

*


	9. Sunshine

Author's notes: And here marks the end of Kaleidoscope :) Thanks to all you wonderful readers and an extra thank you to my reviewers! Big hug for Mnemosyne, my brand new beta! Couldn't have polished this off without you girl! Hope all of you enjoy the final chapter. (I have a Sarkney fic written for the Cover Me March challenge, and another one on the way. Hee keep up the reviews!)  
  
*******  
  
Saying that things changed at the office has to the understatement of the year. No - century. Millennia! Not that I'm complaining, of course.  
  
The first note he leaves on my desk is so ridiculously cryptic I stare at it for almost an hour before realising it says, 'Behind the railway station, ten a.m., Sunday.'  
  
I arrive at nine. Just in case.  
  
He arrives five minutes later. We both burst out laughing. When the giggles subside we look awkwardly at each other, and I feel like a gangly twelve- year-old all over again. What do I SAY?? Looking good Sark! That casual- jeans look does wonders for your complexion?  
  
He grasps my hands in his, and draws me into our first embrace.  
  
Sigh. The warmth of his solid frame seeps through my skin and I think I'm going to faint from sheer joy.  
  
If I hold him any tighter I think his ribs will pop.  
  
'Sydney.' His chin is resting on my shoulder and I sigh against his neck. He smells wonderful. Like warm sunshine and soft silk and gentle rain.  
  
'Sydney, I can't breathe.' Oops.  
  
'Sorry, sorry!' I let go and he's smiling at me, radiant, no trace of subterfuge in his once-cold eyes.  
  
'What do we do now?' I ask softly. He happens to be a wanted criminal, I happen to be working for the CIA, we'll both be in Supremely Big Trouble if anybody find outs.and I wouldn't want it any other way.  
  
He chews lightly on his adorably crooked bottom lip, and I know that he's thinking the same thing too.  
  
'Take it one day at a time,' he says finally. I smile. He kisses me. I melt.  
  
He asks me what I think of spending mornings creeping around railway stations. I giggle and say I'd creep around stranger spots, if it meant being with him.  
  
'I was hoping you'd say that,' he grins, 'because I made us breakfast, at my apartment. Care to join me?'  
  
I nod, and we walk away, hand in hand.  
  
END 


End file.
